


Taco Belle

by pennyroads



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Archie is an innocent bystander, Betty owns a Taco Truck, F/M, Jug pines, banter!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 15:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17428916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyroads/pseuds/pennyroads
Summary: Officer Jones is in dire need of a taco. Betty delivers.





	Taco Belle

**Author's Note:**

> Because Lili tweeted about needing Taco Bell after a long day at work and... my brain did the thing. 
> 
> I apologize for nothing, except maybe for any typos and my terrible southern slang. And the general silliness.
> 
> So really, I apologize for everything. Enjoy!

 

 

“I'm breaking up with you.”

“What?! On what grounds?”

“Your lack of judgement and inferior taste buds.”

“First of all, our friendship is un-break-up-able; second of all, it’s not my fault that I don't like cilantro. It’s a DNA thing, did you know?” Archie plucked his phone from his pocket and opened a Google tab. He scrolled until he found a respectable-looking article and showed it to Jughead, shoving the phone close to his face. “See? SCIENCE!”

Jughead scoffed, pushing Archie’s hand away and quickening his pace.

“Excuses! Everybody knows the Rusty Taco is the greatest creation known to mankind.” He shouted over his shoulder.

They had reached their destination - a food truck parked two blocks from the police precinct Jughead and Archie worked at.

A cheerful plaque shined brightly above it: “ **TACO BELLE** ”.

The white and blue truck was tiny, only big enough for one person to comfortably fit inside. It was currently unmanned, but the sizzling smell of citrusy, herbed pork roast coming off in waves from the oven in the back suggested that the owner was close by.

A menu in blocky font informed customers of the food offer: tacos, burritos, gorditas - everything organic, homemade, locally sourced.

It never failed to bring a smile to Jughead’s face. Nothing inspired happiness in him quite like food. Or quite like -

Betty stepped into view, hopping into the truck through the rear door. She was carrying a heavy crate of bright, plump tomatoes. Her cheeks were adorably flushed.

Jughead’s smiled turned dopey. Archie, thankfully, refrained from commenting.

“Howdy, Miss Cooper. How are y’all doin’ this fine day?” He asked in a fake southern drawl.

It was an ongoing joke of theirs.

Betty, born and raised in upstate New York, was far from being a Southern Belle. It amused Jughead to no end that she had decided to call her business Taco Belle. ‘It’s a pun, _Forsythe._ ’ She had said, exasperated, after one too many of Jughead’s lame jokes.

“Why, just dandy, officer Jones!” Betty drooped the tomatoes on the counter and wiped her hands on her apron. It had a logo of a cartoon taco and the words ‘ _I am SpecTACOlar’_ written underneath.

“The usual?” Betty asked, already knowing the answer. He nodded nonetheless.

She turned to grab the tortillas and Jughead tracked her movement. If his eyes lingered a second too long on her shapely backside... well. No one had to know.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Archie quipped good-naturedly.

“BBQ brisket, extra beans?” Betty asked over her shoulder.

“You order the same thing every day, you peasant. Of course she knows your order.” Jughead snarked, dodging Archie’s answering mock punch.

They rough-housed like school children under Betty’s amused eye while she prepared their meals. She handed them their food and Jughead tucked in right away, taking an enormous bite of his taco. His moan caused a a lady close by to shoot him a scandalized glare.

“Heavens to Betsy, this is even better than yesterday’s” he drawled.

Betty let out an unladylike snort. “You say that every day, Jughead.”

“Doesn't make it any less true.” He winked.

“Alright, alright. I hate to break this off, but the cowboy and I need to get going. Thanks for lunch Betty, it’s delicious.” Archie took some money out of his wallet and payed for their meal, dragging Jughead away by his belt.

“You stay out of trouble now, m’am!” Jughead faked a hat tip, delighted by Betty’s ensuing full-bellied laugh.

He turned on his heel and followed after Archie, stoically preparing to be mocked senseless.

.

“All I'm saying is that you better make a move soon, bro. She's into you! It’s obvious to anyone with eyes.”

Archie had, predictably, spent the entire day bugging him about Betty. Jughead was used to it.

Since they started working together, a year before, they’d been going for lunch at Taco Belle pretty much every working day. And every day, Jughead and Betty flirted shamelessly. And every day, he left without asking for her phone number.

He had followed her on Twitter, so that was something. But it was more of a practical move, since she regularly changed locations and kept her faithful regulars updated via tweet.

So yeah, he hadn't really managed much at all.

“I told you, I'm waiting for the right moment!”

“When the cows come home?”

Jughead playfully punched him in the shoulder.

“I’ll know! When the time is right, I'll now. Plus, why ruin a good thing? She makes heavenly food, I stop by and enjoy said food.” Jughead gesticulated.

“Why complicate it?”

Archie raised a judgmental eyebrow. “Sounds to me like you're being a chicken.”

“COCK-A-DOODLE-DO!” Archie yelled in his ear. Jughead pushed him away, laughing heartily.

“Listen here, you ginger jerk-“

 _“Unit 344, we’ve got a robbery in progress”_ the car radio screeched.

They straightened up and Archie responded to the call. Jughead pulled off from the curb, turning the sirens on and heading downtown at full speed.

.

.

Jughead sighed, long and deep. He regretted it almost immediately, his ribs groaning in protest, aching painfully.

His entire body felt like a bruise somebody kept poking at. His pain threshold was high, but that dumpster had got him good.

He needed a shower, some food and twelve solid hours of sleep. Two of those things he could get at home; the food would prove more difficult to procure, seeing as how his fridge was currently empty and the only thing in his pantry was a cobweb or five.

He pressed the home button on his phone and the screen lit up.

11:43PM.

No way anything would be open at this hour; at least, nothing relatively close by.

Jughead sighed again, more gently this time. A tired hand came up to rub at eyes that felt sandy and heavy with sleep. A thought crossed his groggy mind. He unlocked his phone and opened the Twitter app.

He scrolled until he found Taco Belle’s latest tweet, clicked on the profile and typed a DM. He didn't really expect to get a reply, not at this hour. Betty was a saint, but even she had her limits.

His heart lurched when he heard a ping a few minutes later.

He saw his message - and right underneath, Betty’s reply.

_Any chance you're still out and about at this ungodly hour? I’m prepared to offer you a lifetime of servitude in exchange for one of your tacos._

_Tough day at work?_

Jughead’s fingers flew over the keys, hope brewing in his chest.

_The literal worst. My bruises have bruises. I might charge the perp with additional made-up charges out of pettiness._

Betty’s reply came instantly.

_Poor baby. Save the abuse of power for another day. I’ll be outside in 20 mins._

Warmth spread through Jughead’s entire body, from his head all the way down to his toes. He maybe, possibly, perhaps even felt a tiny little less pain.

He faffed around the station until the clock above the desk informed him that it was time to meet Betty outside. He couldn't leave fast enough, nearly spraining his uninjured shoulder in his haste to put on the leather jacket.

His feet careened him to the front door and down the steps until he was standing outside in the cold January air. The street was empty, lights flickering dimly and only barely illuminating a row of neatly parked cars. Jughead looked both ways and didn't see anyone. His heart dropped a little, disappointment clouding his face.

He was prepared to go back inside the station and wait when suddenly, he heard the sound of heels hitting the pavement, a clack-clack-clack coming closer and closer. The street was dark, but when he looked up he saw the unmistakable form of Betty Cooper coming towards him.

She looked like a mirage, and not just because she was carrying a bag of what could only be tacos and Jughead was a very hungry man. She was a vision in a long navy coat, dainty nude heels and a delicate cashmere scarf. Her hair was down, perfectly styled into an elegant side swoop. Her eyes wide wide and bright. Her nose was red - a consequence of the crisp breeze.

At that moment, Jughead felt a very different kind of hunger.

He pushed it down, clearing his throat and forcing his feet to unroot from the spot on the sidewalk. He met her halfway down the darkened street.

“Did somebody order fresh mex?” A smile played on Betty’s lips. Jughead mirrored it.

“I appreciate this more than you'll ever know, but you didn't have to dress up for me.”

Betty laughed, looking down at her ensemble.

“I was at a singles mixer, you dork.”

And irrational bout of jealousy snuck up on Jughead, forcing his brow to furrow. “A singles mixer? Why?”

He realized, a moment too late, that his question was possibly inappropriate and that the answer was definitely none of his business. Betty didn't seem too bothered by it, though.

“My mother’s doing. Your text actually saved me from having to interact with Gerald.” She snorted.

Jughead instantly hated Gerald. Who even was Gerald? With a name like that, he was sure he could get him arrested for something boring like tax evasion.

The streetlight above them flickered to life all of a sudden and encased Jughead in a sickly orange light. It wouldn't have done anyone any favors on a good day, but because Jughead wasn't at his particular best, it only served to exacerbate his pallor.

Betty’s expression morphed into horror.

“Oh my god. Juggie...”

Her hand reached up to touch his battered cheek gently. Jughead leaned into it, despite the ache that the action provoked.

“What happened?” Her voice was impossibly soft, worry permeating her words.

“Oh, the usual. Fell off a second floor window. Just another marvelous day at work.”

Her breath hitched. “You're an idiot, Jughead Jones.”

Jughead snorted. “Here I am, practically on the brink of death and you're calling me names? Have some mercy, Cooper!”

Betty rolled her eyes in exasperation, but she couldn't quite stop the fond smile that pulled the corners of her mouth upwards.

“You’re standing, talking, and apparently so hungry you had to resort to Twitter. You're far from death.”

“That doesn't mean anything. I’ll be hungry when I cross over to the Great Beyond, I can guarantee it. My hunger knows no limits, not even the celestial kind.”

“You’re the most melodramatic person I know.” Betty replied.

“And yet, you still feed me every day.” Jughead quipped. A smirk had taken permanent residency on his face.

“It's my cross to bear, I suppose.”

They stood staring at each other for a moment, basking in the electric energy flowing between them. Jughead was pretty sure that if he tried to touch her, he'd get zapped.

He broke the silence first.

“So, are those for me?” He pointed at the bag she was carrying. Betty looked down, almost surprised by it, as if their repartee had made her forget all about the reason why she was there in the first place.

“Yes. I also catered the party. I figured they wouldn't miss a couple of tacos.” Her eyes shined brightly and Jughead discovered that green was possibly his new favorite color.

“But now I'm thinking that these won't do. Not when you’ve been so heroic today, jumping off buildings and all.” Her tone dripped with intent. She angled her head, eyes locking into his lips.

“No?” Jughead felt a little lightheaded. He knew he couldn't blame his battered state. This was 100% Betty’s doing.

Betty shook her head, soft blonde hair cascading gently down her shoulders.

“Oh no. I think you better come over to my house so I can make you some from scratch.”

And there it was. No need to speak the words.

People say a picture is worth a thousand words. If someone had pointed a camera at them and snapped a photo, and entire novel could have been extrapolated from the look in their eyes.

Arm in arm, they walked together to Jughead’s car. The air was thick with possibility.

No - promise.

.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on tumblr @pennyroads 
> 
> Have a great day!


End file.
